


Losing His Touch

by juchu



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Deals, Enemies, Gen, Platonic Relationships, kinda gave up at the end though, king dice strikes up another deal with the cup brothers!, tried to focus on a vintagey tone for this one!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juchu/pseuds/juchu
Summary: “Mr. King Dice, sir, Chef Saltbaker told us not to start a fight in here, and we both know it’s two against one,” Mugman said. Maybe he was being too rude, but to plain out attack was absolutely unwarranted.Cuphead shook his head, grumbling. “Mugman’s right! You know how much we can easily knock you up right now?”King Dice fears he's losing his touch.
Relationships: Cuphead & King Dice (Cuphead), Cuphead & Mugman (Cuphead), Mugman & King Dice (Cuphead)
Kudos: 27





	Losing His Touch

**Author's Note:**

> soooorry i've been very flaky with inactivity! i've been really focusing on my art as of lately and haven't managed to do anything major :) but here's a little drabble that was initially going to be short, then it was going to be long, and then it was back to short after i stopped writing it for about a week!
> 
> i'm currently working on something for don't starve with maxwell and perhaps thinking of uploading some bnha stuff in the future if anyone's interested in knowing!
> 
> but yes, this may be the only cuphead fanfiction i write, but it was a fun thing to do and its a minimal attempt at exploring some themes and characterization i guess?  
> enjoy!

A few miles south down Old Olive Lane, where the Rickety River would run bends through the trees and the forest was always nice and green, there lived a family. 

Not just any family, mind you, because if so, this story would be rather dull, but rather a family with two little heroes. 

And these heroes’ names were Cuphead and Mugman.

The older of the duo, the rambunctious charmer who never dropped his fists for a fight, was Cuphead. He was a pleasant fireball topped with a red straw, known among the Inkwell Isles as the most impulsive lad of thirteen summers and simultaneously the savior and the doomer of many citizens about. 

And the younger, a fun-loving bookworm with a knack for leaving good names for himself on the doorstep of each person around, was Mugman. A fine kid with a mean hook, he’s somehow found a perfect balancing act between caution and cheerful naivety. 

Together they would frolick among the chickweeds and cattails, sporting a net given to them by their eagle-eyed Elder Kettle which they used to bat at the occasional butterfly or buzzing bee in childish curiosity. 

Today, a merry outing into the third island has been planned by Elder Kettle, and through various bends the trio strolled about for what surely would be a fine and uninterrupted day at the Inkwell Isle’s quaint seaside town.

…

“You boys take care not to wander off too far!” Elder Kettle said with a wagging finger. “Goodness gracious if you two forgot what trouble you managed to get yourselves in  _ last  _ time.”

Last time, yes, quite! Despite getting in quite the fair pickle with the Devil, they had come out as heroes, so surely all that trouble couldn’t be awfully bad? Yet, the agreeable look that Mugman always loved to wear suggested no argument, so it appeared there wouldn’t be any hard boiled mischief today from the daredevil double. 

“We promise we won’t, Elder Kettle!” Mugman said with that constant agreeableness. When nothing else followed after his pledge, he gave a harsh elbow to Cuphead who was currently investigating a little gummy worm crawling in the grooves of the sidewalk by the name of Duke Benny Wormsworth. Cuphead stiffened, quick as a soldier called up by the sergeant. Why, he couldn’t remember the exact details of what Elder Kettle was spouting off about, but he only waved idly. “Yes, we promise, Elder Kettle-- now, let’s go, Mug!” 

They zoomed off in a cloud of dust and stars, only leaving behind a chuffed Elder Kettle. He tapped his cane fondly. Hopefully, they would both do good on their promises. It wouldn’t be a welcome surprise to return and find the brothers had sold their souls off to Hilda Berg or some other snooty neighbor in fancy clothing. 

So, with a little steam off his top, Elder Kettle ambled for Mr. Forkington’s Silverware Emporium. Apparently, the rich gent had some deals off some fantastic porcelain today! 

…

This day was a fine day, yessiree! 

It was mandatory for Cuphead and Mugman both to agree. 

After they had left Elder Kettle to do his ‘grown-up stuff’ as Cuphead, his eloquenceness, had dubbed it, they had run all over town.

From the theater where they and Miss Stageplay performed a trio to the smattering applause below (she was right swell if she wasn’t trying to beat them black and blue), to the junkyard where Dr. Kahl offered them to try out his newest invention (Mugman was about to agree but was kicked by Cuphead in just the nick of time), and past Miss Honeybottom’s very boring office where a postman bee waved at them in nonchalant buzzing. 

They were an all out busy body, and they soon grew tired after rushing back and forth with their hands sticky from the sugary treats they were given by the townspeople-- another benefit of being a hero! 

So, after waving goodbye to the Blind Specter with some ghostly train knick knacks (being ghostly and all, it only managed to leak through their fingers but they said thank you nonetheless), Cuphead and Mugman decided to head on over to the town square to snatch a bite.

Mugman’s stomach, per usual, was yelling something awful, and his movements, once upbeat, now slunk towards a crawl. He kept mumbling food under his breath, and it certainly wasn’t doing wonders for Cuphead’s hunger either. 

“Blue moon ice cream with chocolate chips… Blueberry pound cake… Blewit mushrooms…” Mugman mumbled, stumbling against the pavement. 

“Golly!” Cuphead said, shoving Mugman’s body straight. “Get a hold of yourself, Mug!” 

“I didn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning and--”

“Well, next time, don’t sleep in so late!”

“Says you, takes all the stuff in your room to wake you up in the mornin’!”

“At least I wake up-- Listen, Mug, I promise we’ll get a quick bite so you can quit bein’ such a grouch. How much change do you got? I found a coin by the dump last week.”

Mugman reached into his pockets, and after much hustling bustling, he removed six golden coins. They shined greedily in the light. 

“Great,” Cuphead said, “Hand ‘em over and I’ll--”

“Nuh-uh, these are  _ my _ coins. If I give you all of them, you’re just gonna go spend it all on something dumb. How many do you have anyway?” He shovelled the clinky shines away, looking over suspiciously at his brother.

“Well, I… uh…” Cuphead dug through his own, only managing to rear up two dull ones and some pocket lint. “He he.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Lucky for you, dear brother, I actually save my money! C’mon, I think I see Chef Saltbaker’s diner, we should have just enough for the two of us!”

Chef Saltbaker’s diner was the finest joint in all of Inkwell. The kids, the grownups, and the elderly alike were always flocking through its doors, clambering for the new dish on the menu, and no matter the want-- some comfort food or a five course dinner, Chef Saltbaker always served it up with the most polite wink. 

The line was right long, as usual during the ripe hour of lunch, sloping out past the double swinging doors and off to the next block. Mugman frowned something awful. “Shucks, it’ll take forever till we get something to eat,” he grumbled.

Cuphead begged to differ, as upon spotting them walking over, those in line offered them the utmost respect. For, they waved, laughed, and nodded in pleasant greetings to their local heroes. “Y’know, I think they’ll let us go in front.”

“But that ain’t very nice if we just cut.”

“We’re not gonna just cut. It’s okay if we ask ‘em.”

And to Mugman’s surprise, they sure allowed it, saying it was the absolute least they can do to repay the two brothers. Golly, at this point all this special treatment was sure going to get to their heads. 

The duo pushed open the doors-- or, at least, Mugman did while Cuphead, nodding like a bobblehead, greeted each person with a fine smile and a handshake, as if he was on the red carpet itself. 

Mugman did what he could, pulling his brother along. Gosh, when did Cuphead suddenly get so heavy? “Cuphead, c’mon, I know everyone’s thankin’ you and all, but I’m hungry and--”

“Ain’t this something? Well, I’ll love to serve you, but what do you got? Nothing I want… Now scram.” 

“Oh ho ho, I see what you did there. Ain’t you just classy, throwin’ my words back at me? How’s about it, we just skip the introductions and I hand over some cash and you hand me some food? Hmm?”

Laughing as he was finally pulled inside, Cuphead blew a kiss at some giggly dame, looking absolutely satisfied and rosy cheeked, but as he turned to give some leaning remark to Mugman he stopped. Some bustle in front of the register apparently. One voice was Chef Saltbaker, and the other, something familiar but a bit too commonplace to rightfully name. 

Chef Saltbaker looked smugger than a cat. He shook his head at whoever he was speaking to, most likely some unruly customer-- but Cuphead didn’t think he was cruel enough to go out and tell some mischievous person to just beat it? If that were the case, he would’ve been bowled out the door long ago.

Mugman pulled at his fingers. Hopefully Cuphead wouldn’t try to go in, guns blazing if they barely knew of the situation. Yeup, Cuphead wouldn’t do that and-- “Cuphead, good golly, come back here!”

Holstering his pants, Cuphead made this whole show: puffing out his chest as he approached the front register and speaking with the deepest baritone he could muster. “Chef Saltbaker, do we have a problem here?” His straw kept overhanging his head, so with a suave flip of it back into position and a proper grin, he was looking like quite the hero!

“Oh! Why, hello, boys!” Saltbaker said, beckoning forth a chivalrous hand with his stirring spoon. The two kids were the toast of Inkwell, and always welcome in his diner, but the character across from him… Not so much. Although, he took it to stride with a flippant wave, laughing heartily. “Nope, not a problem, just some guy who’s too desperate to quit.”

Mugman, stumbling forward (his stomach was growling! Why did Cuphead have to get into trouble at the worst times?), finally managed to catch up to Cuphead. The latter of which was examining Saltbaker with a critical wink. “Guy?” Mugman said. “Who’s the-- shoot…”

Right pressed up against the register, with one palm against his forehead and a downright vicious glower was the Devil’s right hand man himself. He was a scary-looking man before, but now, with his fingers tapping and his face irritated, his scariness was level with a bothered turtle, and he had this newfound interest in the strange fuzzy rigging of the carpet. “I don’t understand the problem here, pal. Don’t restaurants give ya food when you pay the right price? Like every other joint ‘round?” 

Saltbaker jabbed a thumb at a sign by the register. “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone,  _ pal. _ So, why don’t you just run back to your casino and cheat an only special few from their souls or--” A tapping against his arm rendered him into silence. 

Mugman spoke, naive consideration in his voice, “Please, Chef Saltbaker, can Cuphead and I talk to… ah… him?” He wrung his straw in his hands with shaky uncertainty. Well… ever since he and his brother became heroes, they haven’t seen heads nor tails of the Devil’s right hand man. Nor have they really stopped to think about the other, but surprisingly, the man hadn’t decided to pull the wool over their eyes yet. Rather, instead, he was entirely concentrated on his current state of rejection. 

Cuphead chimed in with a yeah, cracking his knuckles. “We’re gonna show him not to mess with you, Chef--”

“No. We’re not gonna do that, we’re gonna talk with him. Is that okay, Chef Saltbaker?” Mugman said, nicking his brother’s handle with a telling elbow. 

Saltbaker straightened his apron with a huff. “I suppose so… as long as you don’t start any fights here… You heard them, go.” He slapped his stirring spoon against the gloved palm resting against the register. 

The right hand man to the Devil himself snatched away his palm with a cold glare. Grumbling in half hearted defeat, he came to slump down in one of the booths with the two boys.

“So…” Mugman began. Cuphead crossed his arms in suave assertion that was sure to dwarf their victim. “... You hungry?” 

Cuphead spluttered. “Hungry?” He shook his head something awful. “You’re asking him if he’s hungry? How about we ask him what trouble he’s trying to do in here? What kind of evil deeds he has in store for this place?” He grabbed a fork off a napkin, and leaning across the table, he impaled their victim with a war cry. 

King Dice was little dwarfed. His velvet suit coming to swoop down before catching against his elbows and tapering out into worn cuffs. While he was straightforward in manner, he lacked his cunning domination he had first worn when the duo had encountered the other by the craps table. Instead, he appeared rather… unremarkable. Taking a delicate finger, he flicked the fork away with detached interest. 

“You boys are letting stardom rattle your heads. Why, you burnt a couple pieces of paper and you’re expectin’ me to sit down and be scared?”

Cuphead raised an eyebrow. “Yea-”

“No… not exactly,” Mugman interjected. “But, y’see Mr. King Dice, sir, we… we  _ did _ beat the Devil and you, you did say..”

King Dice watched the boy all but stutter over his words. These silly children managed to get him a good whopping? Surely he must have been hallucinating. Mugman looked sheepish, his words continually becoming more and more insulting to his chagrin, and Cuphead was standing, attempting to appear tough as if he was some guard dog. 

“You done?” King Dice said thickly. He had no patience for spoiled little kids, and while it was true they had managed to beat both him and the boss, they seemed higher than rubbing salt in the wound. The casino has not been stealing many victims lately, and despite the occasional visitor, they were always too cautious for King Dice to work any of his suave magic on them. He blamed it all on the two kids sitting in front of them. 

The Devil has been absolutely hounding him as of late. It was impossible to catch a moment’s rest, and after their last chef had gotten the strike after the Devil lost a golden money making deal, he’s been itching for at least something to kick him out of this debby downer stupor. And so far, he’s only been met with more bad luck. Maybe he was losing his touch…

Damn it. No, not because of two kids who just made it lucky. As Cuphead breathed in, about to rear up more foolish words, King Dice flicked a finger and a card came striking an hair’s length from the other’s face and embedded itself into the booth behind him. Mugman jumped to attention with a pointedly aimed finger gun.

“Mr. King Dice, sir, Chef Saltbaker told us  _ not _ to start a fight in here, and we both know it’s two against one,” Mugman said. Maybe he was being too rude, but to plain out attack was absolutely unwarranted.

Cuphead shook his head, grumbling. “Mugman’s right! You know how much we can easily knock you up right now?”

It was true. King Dice knew. In his condition, with his lack of recent practice, and with the sheer power of not only the cup brothers but the other patrons of the bar obviously eavesdropping, he was at a complete disadvantage. Damn it. Damn it! 

Being forced to surrender by two ten year olds? 

He remembered when he was a force to be reckoned with. A demanding point and one word was all it took to get those he met his eyes to scuttle off with their tail between their legs. 

But, as he stormed the streets, forced to leave the casino for either reprieve or supplies, they scoffed at him, mocked him. 

His fingers tightened their grip on the table. He had been reduced to this sniveling mess! 

And with a lowly growl, King Dice raised a pathetic hand to retract the playing card from the wood and back into his sleeve. 

“Come on!” Cuphead said. “We should kick him out. Golly, the diner’s gonna be broken by the end of this, why’d you even pull him over in the first place?”

Mugman spluttered like a kettle. “I-- he looked like he needed some help… I don’t want to be in trouble or any--”

“You fellas don’t wanna be in trouble?” King Dice spoke, his voice oily as hair cream. “Well, it ain’t gonna be very difficult to make some commotion here…” Three cards slipped into his fingers and he flipped them to the other hand, disappearing into his left sleeve. 

The brothers stopped their insistent squabbling. Cuphead watched the cards juggle and spin delicately across King Dice’s hands, almost bewitched, before he shook his head and asked, “Whaddya mean?”

“Well, lookee over there, fellas. There’s a nice little marking on the wood from my card, and bear in mind, that was only from one. Imagine how much more damage fifty can do?” 

Mugman’s frowned turned ugly. “Hey, what--”

“Lemme tell you two something. Saltbaker, he’s a good guy-- wonderful guy! Just don’t get on his bad side, or you may be kicked out from every one of his joints, just like I have, and if he trusts you two  _ heroes _ , and you fail on the job. What’ll everybody think of their saviours? But you know what? I’ve got a deal.”

He’s enraptured them. Lead with the good ole consequences first, and they seemed practically on the edge of their seats. He gave them a moment of pause to let them fully process the consequences.

“You round me three contracts and I might just pardon you sorry mugs,” he said with relish. 

Lead with the impossible. Wait. 

Cuphead and Mugman spluttered. “Wh- no, we can’t do that we don’t even know how to do that.” “Is there something else we can do?”

“Maybe there is…” King Dice whistled. “Pay for a good dinner and maybe you won’t get absolutely verbally slaughtered by Saltbaker and hoarded by the townsfolk.”

Mugman immediately dove for his pocket. “Wait, stop, Mug! That’s all of our money!” Cuphead said.

Now, sweeten the deal.

“And imagine how much Saltbaker would honor you knowing you boys stopped me from coming to his diner for a full month? Really, all I get out of this is a dinner, but you fellas get the real prize: fame, reputation.”

And as King Dice spoke, wrapping hushed promises of greatness, Cuphead’s once tight grip about his brother began to loosen. He was caught, now all King Dice had to do was reel him in.

“So which will it be? Shame or fame?” He held out a gloved hand.

Mugman looked wrought up, he kept sneaking glances towards the deep mark of the wood where the card once etched besides Cuphead. They squealed to each other under hushed whispers, and after much elbowing and squints and a brief snatching of “Elder Kettle,” Mugman looked up.

His hand clasped King Dice’s. 

“You got yourself a deal.”

King Dice smiled.

…

The Devil’s Casino loomed above him, and unlike before where he left with a shuddering gaze, he raised his head proudly, stomach lovely and full. 

The new chef would soon be arriving.

A new hire, and a deal won.

No, King Dice certainly never lost his touch. 


End file.
